FORCE: Alpha Badboy MMA Romance (38 page)

50

Larry barely took up a third of the small hospital bed as he breathed low and slow, his skin a sickening tone of yellowish gray against the stark white of the hospital pillow and sheets.

“Where have you been?” Asher looked up as Cameron slipped between the curtains, his eyes sunken farther into his brow that an 18-year-old on the cusp of the best years of his life should be.

“I’m sorry man. I fucked up. So, I talked to Doctor Leonard on my way in. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. He’s been sick for a while. He didn’t want anyone to know. I only figured it out because I read all the pill bottles and put two and two together. But, he made me promise not to tell you.”

Cameron wanted to fly off the handle and lay into him for keeping something like this to himself, but for once in his life, he decided maybe the hammer in the face approach may need a rest.

“It’s cool, Ash. I haven’t been the best at keeping in touch. Hey — I’m sorry I took off and left you with Dad. That’s no fucking lottery win, I know.” Cameron took a deep breath, actually trying to let whatever was bubbling up inside out in a slow fizz instead of a messy explosion. “Look, I have to tell you something.”

Cameron felt like she was right there, just the thought of mentioning her name brought her scent right back to him and he felt his soul shift back into the light.

“What?” Asher looked up toward his big brother.

“It’s Vic. Me and her. Man, I should have said something before, back when you said –” Cameron’s eyes bounced from his brother’s face to the floor and back.

“I know, she told me. That day at lunch. I get it; it’s okay.”

“She told you what?”

“She told me — You. Her. She shut me down, man. I knew it was a long shot, but when we went to lunch, I was trying to — you know — tell her maybe her and I —”

Cameron could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and it sent a fissure into his heart.

“We’re sort of this weird version of family, man.” Asher continued. “It’s not like I’m in LOVE with her, I mean, she’s hot and amazing and I can’t lie, I’ve spent a few hours with her on my mind. But, she’s completely
gone
for you man. Gone, completely. Love. I saw it in her eyes when she told me, I’m happy for you. I am. Jealous as fuck — sure, but I get it.”

“Jesus, how’d you turn out so good? Raised by a couple of retard wolves like us.” Cameron tousled his blondish curls knowing how much he hated it.

“
Stop.
Ass.” Asher leaned away, knocking Cameron’s hand from his head with a huge swipe of his arm. “I don’t know. I must have more of mom in me than Dad.”

“Lucky you.”

A shift and a moan came from the hospital bed, the sunken form awakened and both boys’ eyes shot toward the noise.

Larry coughed, then his voice came out like a choking toad. “Well, well. Look who’s here.”

“Hey, Dad.” Cameron stepped next to the bed and shoved his hands down into his pockets. The stretch of his gray t-shirt showed the tightness across his chest as his breath fought its way in and out of his lungs.

“I’m tired as shit, so listen and keep your mouth shut for once okay?” Larry’s voice sounded like he had been screaming too long and too loud, but Cameron nodded at the soft croaking sound that managed to eek out.

“I’m sick. I know I’m sick. I’ve made some plans, and you need to do what I tell you.” His eyes rolled back in his head before he steadied his breath and continued. “There’s a trust, your mother set it up with the money from her life insurance. It’s been sitting there since you were young. There’s one for each of you, but you can’t touch it until you’re 27 1/2.” He gave Asher a quick glance then continued. “It’s been invested. I’m a son-of-a-bitch for not telling you before now, I know, but it’s there. I gave Asher the combination to the safe, all the papers are in there. I don’t know how much or anything more. I’m not on the trust, so they won’t tell me anything.”

Cameron looked at Asher, who raised his eyebrows and gave him a little nod.

“Second thing, Roger and I — we’ve decided it’s time. The gym needs new blood, and we’re old fucking men who can’t seem to find our asses with both hands anymore. So, as of Monday morning, I’m signing over my ownership to both of you. BUT, Asher, you need to go to college. Don’t be a fuck-up like me, go to college then figure out what you want to do. If it’s the gym, you’ve got my blessing. But, until you graduate, Cameron it’s up to you. Roger’s going to turn his part over to Vic. She runs the damn place anyway, has for a long time. Only thing we need is a good trainer to bring in some new fighters.”

“Are you sure?” Cameron looked from Asher back to Larry.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. You can’t ride on my damn coat tails forever.” He managed a bit of a smile before he started coughing and took a long moment to catch his breath.

“I’m no trainer, Dad.” Cameron knew how to fight, but the art of training others required a special skill set.

“No, you’re not. That’s for damn sure. Besides, you’ve got a fighting career I expect to see revived. Quit dicking around and wasting your talent, Cameron. Get the brick off your shoulder and your head outta your ass and just go do what you were born to do already. Yeah, I sucked at being a dad, you had a shitty childhood.

Yep, but time has a way of marching on, and you’re missing the fucking parade. Get Reggie — make him a deal. Give him part ownership and have him put his name on the place. He knows how to run a business and he’s got a name people will follow. We’ve waited too long but now’s the time. He’s got what it takes, and you can be the anchor. You start winning and people will start coming back. With your name and Reggie, you can make Southside something again.”

“Do it, bro. Okay? Don’t run away again, we need you. I need you; Dad needs you. Victoria needs you.” Asher looked up toward Cameron’s pained face.

The mention of her name jerked Cameron’s head around to glare at his little brother.

“Don't start giving him a hard time. I know you’re in love with her, you dumbass.” Larry admonished Cameron. “I’d have to be blind and deaf to not know. I’m a son-of-a-bitch, but I know what love looks like. You’ve been gone over her since you were ten years old, boy. So, don’t be an asshole like me. Treat her the way she should be treated, don’t let her get away, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Dad, you’re in no condition to make huge decisions. Let’s just wait until you feel better, then you can figure out shit with the gym,” Cameron said.

“Fuck that. I’ve waited long enough. That’s all I’ve ever done is ‘waited’. I’m
OLD
, I’m
sick
, I fucked up my own life — I’m not waiting anymore. You’re taking the gym. You’re going to convince Reggie to back you and partner with you, and you’re going to get your head out of your ass and go get Victoria and you’re going to make sure Asher graduates from college.

I’ve been a shitty father to you boys —” He coughed, his voice growing even harder to understand as his throat clenched around the words. “So, let me do something right for once. I should have told you a long time ago about the money, but, dammit, I was afraid you would take Asher and never come back. At least your mother was smart enough not to give me the dough. She made some guy down at the bank your executor, he’s called once or twice a year since you came of age. Sent letters. I’d take them — throw them away. I didn’t want you to know.”

“What about Roger? He’s not —” Cameron asked.

“Roger’s ready. He and I, we know we can’t go on like this. We’ve been talking about it for a long time, but we’re selfish assholes. We’ve put the whole place on the line, done things no honorable men should have considered. He’s been pushing me to try to figure how to save the gym for a year. I was the stubborn one, wouldn’t even talk to him about it. He knows Victoria runs the place, we both do. People respect her, she’s sharp, she’s got the business down. We just need new blood, new trainers, and new fighters. He’s ready, we’re on the same page. It’s the end of an era for us.”

The last few words caught in his throat.

Larry started coughing again, the monitors above his head turned from soft beeps — slow and steady — to suddenly singing and screaming like a screeching trumpet.

Asher darted to his feet just as the curtain pulled back, and a middle aged blond nurse pushed Cameron aside.

“Can you gentleman step outside for a moment?” There was a tough urgency in her voice that left no room for dissent.

Cameron’s first inclination was to tell her to go fuck herself.

But, Asher had his hand on Cameron’s back, guiding him outside the curtain as his head spun at the way his world kept turning upside down and backwards on itself the last few days.

“Jesus, do you believe that shit?” Cameron looked down at Asher’s face, and he saw something that looked like respect and hope.

“The doctor said he won’t be a candidate for a transplant. He said if they can stabilize him, and he quits drinking, he might have a year.” Asher’s voice caught in his throat, and his heart hurt for his little brother who had deserved so much more from the two men that had raised him.

“Fuck man. This is too much —” Cameron spun his shoulders back toward the curtain, the beeps and whistles had slowed, back to a steady reassuring beat.

The blond nurse re-appeared.

“We are going to move him to a private observation suite down the hall. Why don’t you come back in a few hours? He needs to rest, we have a few more tests to do, and we need to get him ready to move. He’ll be fine until then.”

“I don’t think we should leave.” Cameron puffed up, and the nurse didn’t budge.

“Well, then you can wait downstairs or out in the hall. But, I’m telling you, it will be at least three or four hours before we let you back in, so you might as well take this opportunity to take a break yourselves.”

She turned on her heel and left them standing there, the curtain opened only a few inches, and Larry’s eyes were closed.

“Let’s go. He’s asleep. Go find Victoria. She’s a mess, man. I mean, no one would know if they didn’t know her, but after lunch the other day, and after you ran off at Thanksgiving, she could barely hold it together. Don’t be a dick — remember, if you don’t take her, I’m plenty ready to step—”

“Don’t even fucking say it, bro.”

Asher gave him that killer California smile and Cameron couldn’t help but feel how lucky he was.

“Then
GO
dumbass, I’ve got dad’s car. I’m going to head home and lick my wounds anyway.” Asher winked and gave Cameron a shove down the hall. “He’s a mean old man; he’s not going to die without giving us at least another year of grief. Besides, if you take over the gym, he’s gotta have enough time to tell you how you’re doing everything wrong.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.” Cameron hadn’t meant to tell him, but before he took his next breath, it came out. “I got a contract dude. UFC, Simon Reed, can you believe that shit? Not even just a shitty first-up contract. After all the ups and downs, they’re fighting me in Vegas end of February. It’s not a top billing fight or anything, but god damn, right?”

“
No shit?!
Well, I guess Southside has its new golden boy.” Asher’s smile radiated inside the elevator. “Now, go get that golden girl, okay?”

“You’re a nag.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve learned from a couple pros.”

“Touché.”

Cameron threw his arm over Asher’s shoulder then gave him a shove into the open spot in the revolving door toward the parking lot.

51

This is what other people do. Go to gallery openings, drink champagne, and mingle. Normal people. It feels so — calm. Why isn’t anyone hitting anyone? There’s no blood or swearing. Weird, these people are just weird.

The painted stark white brick walls stood lined with 3’ x 3’ and larger black and white images of the world where she felt most at home. Even with its rabid vibration of tension and angst, home was where you felt most comfortable, and Victoria knew that more than ever standing there in the middle of all the soothing silence.

It was still early, there were mainly gallery workers and a few other people mingling around. The long table in back was already set up with champagne glasses, trays waiting for hor 'd oeuvres and glossy bios with a picture of Victoria standing in front of the largest portrait of Cameron.

“Well? Are you excited? What do you think?” Vincent was all smiles and perky enthusiasm as he grabbed Victoria by the shoulders and kissed her lightly on both cheeks.

He is the polar opposite of every man I have ever known.

“It is amazing, I am completely in awe. They look so — shocking — haunting, so large. I got a chill when I came in and saw the first wall.” Victoria pointed toward the front of the gallery where they had lined up a succession of images of Cameron.

I also thought I might throw up, but I managed to spare them that little treat.

She hadn’t heard a word from Cameron. Not a call, a text, a haunting shadow lurking behind a car or a corner, watching — not since yesterday when he disappeared from the back porch.

Victoria did her best feign joy, because in the most honest part of her, there was only a despair that she never felt before. A pulling in her gut and a clasping on her windpipe that kept her at half-speed, barely able to convince her feet to move one in front of the other.

Lord knows I used an entire stick of cover up to try to hide the horror of my non-stop crying fits.

How could she have let this happen? She knew.
She knew
it would end like this. Men like Cameron don’t have what it took to navigate the inlets and rough seas of human relationships.

They were warriors, single-minded, irrational and unable to process emotion like most people.

He truly didn’t have the gene that allowed him to see reason, to live in the civilized world where people discussed their problems, worked out mutual solutions over coffee, and went to therapy.

Everything felt wrong, upside down, backwards, and unsolvable.

Yet, here she stood in her white skirt and Jimmy Choo pumps, a faded gray Southside tank top fitted tightly over her chest as her fingers kept finding their way to her neck to touch the pendant he’d placed there.

“So, when is Mr. Amazing coming?” Vincent smiled and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, it turns out his father is ill. Very ill. He more than likely won’t make it. I’m so sorry. I should have called, but it all just happened.”

Victoria could barely keep her voice steady as she played with the silver tag.

“I’m so sorry. That’s too bad, I know it would have helped sales. He could have done some signings. His signature right next to yours. Huh? That would have —” Vincent’s eyes suddenly rounded into full moons as he looked over Victoria’s left shoulder.

Victoria turned in the direction of Vincent’s shocked stare, only to feel like the air in her lungs turned to poison. Someone must have turned on the heat, because from her toes to her face, her skin rippled and burned.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria’s voice hinted at a deep anger laced with an overwhelming sense of joy and relief.

The floor felt like it was moving; her feet were already uncomfortable in the unfamiliar five inch heels that were a gift from him and now she felt like she may just end up face down on the hard acid stained concrete floor of the fancy gallery.

Oh my, God, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Jesus, please, help me. Why is he in a suit? Oh my, God, Larry’s dead. He’s here to tell me Larry died.

“OH thank you, Jesus!”
Vincent almost fell over himself as Cameron stood in a dark suit, impeccable white shirt and deep crimson tie.

Victoria felt her heart and her stomach flip up and down over each other as her internal organs seemed to reorganize their positions. Abject fear played tag with a blanket of relief and excitement inside her head.

“Is Larry —?” she asked softly.

Cameron stood like a black knight, filling the room with his presence and blocking out the sunlight that streamed into the light-filled space.

“Come here. No, he’s okay. Come here.” He nodded toward Vincent. “Sorry dude, we need a minute, okay? I promise I’ll bring her back.”

“Okay.” Vincent’s sing-song voice danced along the brick walls and high ceilings as he eyed Cameron up and down like a lollipop. “If you promise.” He sashayed away, leaving Victoria teetering on the verge of tears.

She wanted so badly to slap the hand away that gripped hers. To tell him to leave and never come back and let her live her life in quiet misery.

“Where are we going? I have to be here —”

“Shut up. I’ve got some important shit to say to you, and we need a few minutes. Twinkle toes can wait. This won’t, so don’t give me any shit and just come on.”

Cameron pulled her arm, where their hands met Victoria could feel her pulse racing. Each fingertip that touched him felt like it was tracing over sharp razors, any moment they would slice into her and leave a trail of blood as she walked.

Stay strong, this is never going to work. Don’t sign up for more misery, enough finds you already. But, God, he’s drop dead gorgeous, he smells like a wolf coming for the sheep. STOP IT! Straighten up, tell him it’s not going to work. He’s not going to change, and you don’t need him. Not like this. He’s a Neanderthal. Yeah, but I love him.

Cameron dragged her to the back room where four other gallery employees were sipping lattes and whispering about the dead sexy fighting God that had just walked in the front door.

Eight eyes turned, and four mouths fell open as Cameron stood in the doorway to the small room.

“Out. I need this room.”

Victoria’s face turned to a tomato as he ordered the employees out of their own break room. What was more shocking, they all stood up and did as they were told like drones at his command.

Victoria felt the anger rising. Why did he have be so rude? So, so — dominant, dismissive to everyone. Like he was some alpha junk yard dog, and everyone else were the rats he was charged to chase away.

She opened her mouth to snip at him as he swung his shoulders around and latched the door, locking them inside.

“Don’t.” One word that cut through the air like a blunt instrument and Victoria could hear the desperation in his voice. It was something unfamiliar and she felt sadness coming from his eyes.

“I don’t give a fuck about them, they can fucking wait. I’ve got some shit to say, and you’re going to listen.” He shoved his hands down into his pants pockets; the impeccably fitted black jacket spread open as he took a long deep breath and looked up at the ceiling as if he was praying for a moment.

She had never seen him like this. Something was very, very wrong, and the bony fingers of fear began to tangle around her throat.